


Soon

by thewightknight



Series: Former Comrades [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M, not the good kind of fake relationship, pre rogue one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: Orson thinks their life is perfect.  Little does he know.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Скоро](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349899) by [Riddle_TM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_TM/pseuds/Riddle_TM)



> No archive warnings tagged, but this is a bit on the dubcon side. Explained in the end notes.

It ended this way each night. He’d finish his shift, yet still remain at his desk, reviewing all his notes. Once he’d reread everything at least twice, he’d lock down his terminal and stack the flimsies in a neat pile. After this, he’d make a circuit of the offices, his own personal patrol, verifying that his fellow scientists had logged off for the evening. He’d always end up chasing at least one from his station, ignoring their protests. They had deadlines, yes, but security must be maintained. Sometimes he’d chat with the straggler about whatever problem had them staying late, but eventually that conversation would end, and he’d be left with no excuses. 

He didn’t allow his pace to lag as he made his way to his quarters. Holocameras recorded his every step and he couldn’t seem reluctant, not for one instant. Before he thumbed the door open he had to restrain himself from squaring his shoulders time and time again. He couldn’t ever falter. He had to present the perfect picture at all times, of a man glad to be here, proud of what he was creating and happy in the life he’d made for himself.

“There you are, darling.” Orson handed him a glass of wine. “I’ve kept dinner warm for you.”

“You always take such good care of me.” Galen accepted the wine, well-practiced in putting forward the perfect smile.

“Well, of course. You know how important you are to me.”

Lips grazed his and he repressed the shudder that still tried to force itself out, even after all the years he’d maintained this façade. They clinked glasses together and he let the liquid pass untasted down his throat.

“So what has your chef prepared for us this evening, my dear?” Orson saw what he wanted to see, the devoted servant of the Empire and his attentive partner. His Galen. When Orson handed him into his chair he withstood the hand caressing first his shoulder, then his cheek, maintaining his smile as Orson took his seat across the table. As Orson dished out food onto each of their plates he initiated the small talk, knowing what topics to broach that required the least interaction on his part.

Throughout the meal he let Orson natter on, smiling and nodding in all the right places, answering questions when he had to, reminding himself the whole time why he did this, as he did every evening. Saw had spirited Jyn away to safety and this weapon, Orson’s pride? He would see it shatter around him, and take this hateful man down with it. 

“I have to return to the station tomorrow, darling. Tarkin is making noise again, and I can’t let him take credit for our work.” 

“Damage control. Your specialty.” 

Orson preened, raising his glass to Galen again.

“Soon, my love. The Galaxy will know our power.”

He just had to hold on a bit longer. Then he would have his revenge. The datastick in his pocket would see to it. 

“Soon.”

This time the wine tasted sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Galen maintains the fiction that he is willingly in a relationship with Orson so he can keep Jyn safe and build the weakness into the Death Star.
> 
> Feel free to[ come say hi on tumblr](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
